Still Believe in Rainbows and Stars, A Poem

Behind Writing This Poem

I thought about this.

Then I thought again.

I debated within myself whether I’d share this poem, I Still Believe in Rainbows and Stars, for multiple reasons. It’s multilayered with connections to Corrie and other topics, and like several of the poems I’m currently writing, deep in processing what the US is witnessing as a nation.

I was raised to never discuss religion or politics publicly. These are–in my upbringing and belief system–intensely personal, and can cause havoc in one’s career and life if not careful.

But then I also think of my daughter, and how she so openly said what she thought. My political beliefs weren’t private when let out of my daughter or son’s mouth, and her preschool teacher enjoyed telling me a story. It is one of which I’m proud, but I only share privately.

In this time, I think of the quote from Harry Potter along the lines of: “Soon we must decide between what is right and what is easy.” We now stand on the brink where we must each decide what is right and what is easy. For those, like me, who’ve remained on the quieter side, we will have decide where we will stand. Will we stand on the wrong side of history, or for the good?

Writing the poem, and ones like it, isn’t the difficult part. The decision to share any of them is because I share a great love of people, who fall across different political spectrums.

I also think, in beginning the third year, since my daughter’s death, where I’ve realized a new confidence. There is a will, which wasn’t there before. I also remember The Hangman by Maurice Ogden, and the words to warn of history repeating:

‘For who has served me more faithfully
Than you with your coward’s hope?’ said he,
‘And where are the others that might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?’

Excerpt from “The Hangman” by Maurice Ogden

I cannot, in good conscience, continue forward knowing how outspoken my daughter was, and how–although I miss her–she’s not here to have her rights taken away.

This poem also combines verses from an early poem I wrote in February 2021 about loss called Rainbows.

I Still Believe in Rainbows and Stars is very multilayered from Corrie to the struggles I’m witnessing, and the injustice.

I Still Believe in Rainbows and Stars

Angel, 
  these days the storms gather, and 
  I hear the thunder. But it was a 
  different sound than the night  I lost
  you. I question if this is the world
  you’d wish to see: what is shaping it,
 changing it, and if someone will speak
  for what is being stripped, stolen,
  thrown and broken?  I hear
  you say, just as you did in life, 
  “Mommy, why don’t you speak?”
  You never had my social anxiety. 

Some want us to look at the sky after
the storm, and see a flag of stars and
stripes. Some may say, “Look away,
look away, there’s no rainbow in
the sky.” There are those who now
celebrate shattered glass
and wear colors of the flag–
not for true love of the ideals for
which it stands–but a new 
invention of a wrong intention for
what they hope will forever stand.

It’s not that love is lost for 
my nation or the flag, but 
it is because I love my country 
that I will become  a part of 
those who will hold it accountable 
for its ideals on which it stands.  
Some want, wish and plan to cast 
the stripes over those who still see
and discuss rainbows; an edited, 
cropped version, 
with mustaches over faces and 
colored-in teeth.

I used to tell my mom,
in a funny voice, and
my daughter when she
clip clopped in high 
heels across the kitchen
floor, "Life is not made
of rainbows and 
unicorns" to which my
child believed the world 
would be better with 
unicorns under rainbows 
anyday. But, Angel, I was 
wrong–the world has rainbows,
and who are we to refuse to 
see all colors and in 
that ultraviolet light?

I still believe in the ideals of the 
flag, and understand my favorite
part is the stars. Look past the 
bars, and see how high that field
of stars still stands. It’s because
those are the ideals of freedom
for every American of which this
nation  should stand. Angel, the
stars are so high because we’ve yet
to make those ideals real life. They
remain like unicorns–wished for, but
not realized. You see, the stars are 
for all, and not the few who’d take 
a view of a world
with cropped pictures and 
rainbows out of the sky.

I still believe in rainbows and stars
here and where you are.  I’m glad–
in this moment–you’re not here, when
I’d see my daughter’s rights evaporate.

There are rainbows in puddles, in the
Science book where they teach about
ultraviolet light, and in the sky.  They
appear in the rain when you wear red 
or pink rain boots and say, “I must 
water the plants anyway.” The stars 
also rise, and we cannot touch 
them as I’d once wished to hold
your star.  I still believe in rainbows
and all of the stars, and I’ll try my 
best–with you gone and unafraid 
to speak–to cast out my anxiety,
so we can reach those stars.

By R.A. Bridges